


Have My Heart

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Whatever Laura says, Derek doesn’t stalk Stiles.  He doesn’t.  Yes, his sketchbook might contain studies of Stiles’ hands, the subtle muscle definition in his forearms, but that means nothing; he’s good at art, it’s life drawing, nothing else.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Have My Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5575270) by [stihal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stihal/pseuds/stihal)



> part of Trope Bingo. trope: AU college/high school.

Whatever Laura says, Derek doesn’t _stalk_ Stiles. He doesn’t. Yes, his sketchbook might contain studies of Stiles’ hands, the subtle muscle definition in his forearms, but that means nothing; he’s good at art, it’s life drawing, nothing else.

Stiles sits in front of him during English, tipping back on his chair and exchanging jokes with his best friend, Scott. Derek hasn’t been caught staring yet, but it’s only a matter of time — Stiles is always turning around like he can’t bear to sit still — and he lives in dread of that day. It’s not like he wants to _do_ anything; he just likes watching Stiles, and Derek knows how that sounds, but it’s not like that. Not always. Derek finds Stiles fascinating, the way he seemingly glides through high school like nothing bothers him. It’s kind of an asshole thing to say, because Derek knows Stiles’ life hasn’t been all sunshine and roses — he remembers Stiles’ mom dying, and how he didn’t come back to school for over a week — but he seems so much more well adjusted than anyone else in the school.

Derek doesn’t hate school, he doesn’t think much of school at all if he’s honest, it’s a thing he has to go to and so he goes. He studies, more than most probably, he gets good grades, and people mostly leave him alone. During lunch, he sticks his headphones in and reads, attempting not to drop food on his book. There are other people at his table, but they don’t talk; Derek prefers it that way. Stiles sits one table across, three down, with Scott, Allison, and a bunch of other people for whom the Friday night lacrosse game is the biggest event of their week. They’re always laughing and joking, and sometimes they make out in the middle of the lunchroom. Stiles is never one of the people making out. Stiles hasn’t dated anyone since he came out as bi three months ago. Not that Derek has been paying attention to that.

*

Biting on the end of his pencil, Derek looks up when someone taps the table. Of all the people he thought would come to talk to him, Lydia Martin was at the bottom of his list. She motions for him to pull out his headphones, and he does, waiting for her to say something. Lydia narrows her eyes at him and he’s really confused about what the hell she’s doing here. The only time they’ve spoken is when they were paired up in Chem class, and even then it was the bare minimum.

“Good book?” she finally asks. Derek wordlessly lifts it so that she can see the title. “The Stranger? Ambitious.”

“Hardly,” Derek replies. “If I was reading it in the original French, then maybe.”

“No wonder you’re the one of only two people challenging me for Valedictorian.”

“Who else is?”

“Stiles.”

And, what? Derek knows Stiles isn’t dumb — he doesn’t study like Derek, but he’s not stupid — but still, Derek didn’t realise... Lydia’s snapping her fingers in front of his face and, okay, no. “Can you not do that?”

“Can you not drift off looking at Stiles?”

Derek’s cheeks flush, and he looks down at his book, tapping his pencil against the table. “I wasn’t —”

“Please.” Lydia straightens up and folds her arms across her chest. “My birthday party is on Saturday. You’re invited.”

“I don’t really like parties.”

“Do I look like I care? Come to the party, Derek, I’m sure someone will make it worth your while.” Smirking at him, she walks back to her table, leaving Derek staring after her. When she sits down, Stiles immediately leans over the table and talks to her, the back of his neck turning red. Whatever she says in response makes Stiles turn around and look at Derek and Derek’s throat goes dry as neither of them look away. Eventually Scott throws a roll at Stiles’ head and Stiles turns back to his table. Derek pokes his cold fries, his appetite gone the more he thinks about the prospect of going to Lydia’s party.

*

Derek’s curled on the couch with his laptop when Laura leans over him and grins. “What?” he says in a flat tone.

“Heard something interesting about you today.” Laura walks around the couch and shoves Derek’s feet up so she can sit down.

“I doubt that,” Derek says with a frown, pulling his knees up and putting his laptop on the floor.

“So Lydia didn’t invite you to her birthday party?”

“You’re not even at high school anymore, why do you care?”

Smirking, Laura pokes Derek’s shin. “Because my little brother might be getting a social life.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going,” Derek sighs.

“Is Stiles going to be there?”

“Yes.”

“So why wouldn’t you go?”

Tugging at a loose thread on his sweater, Derek shrugs, avoiding looking at Laura. “I don’t like parties, you know that.”

Laura’s quiet for a moment before she squeezes Derek’s knee. “You know no one remembers what happened, right?”

“That’s not it.”

“So you haven’t been acting like a hermit for the past two years because you happened to get drunk with the wrong girl and almost did a striptease on a table before someone pulled you down?”

“Laura can you — why are you —” Derek breaks off with frustration, the creeping sense of embarrassment crawling through his veins again at the mere mention of his one appearance at a high school party.

“I’m not saying this to embarrass you, I’m really not. You were news for about a week and then Danielle punched that dude who grabbed her ass and the student body did at sit in at her being suspended.”

“I forgot about that.”

“Which means most people have probably forgotten about you.” Laura rolls her eyes and gives Derek’s knee one last squeeze before getting off the couch. “Go to the party, Derek. If you don’t like it, you can leave. I’ll even let you take the car.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. One time offer. And don’t do anything gross with Stiles in it.”

“Laura!”

*

The Friday before the party, Derek takes his seat in English and by the time he’s pulled out his books, Stiles is standing in front of his desk. Fumbling with the zipper on his backpack, Derek tries to focus, his fingers shaking slightly.

“Hi,” Stiles says, his hands in his pockets.

“Uh, hi?”

“Lydia said she invited you to the party tomorrow?” Stiles sits down on his chair, turning around to face Derek. “Are you coming?”

“I — yeah? I mean, I guess so.”

“Good.” The corners of Stiles’ mouth turn up in a small smile. “I’ll see you there.”

Derek watches Stiles face the front of the room again, totally confused about what just happened. When Stiles greets Scott, Derek notices the red flush on Stiles’ cheeks and — that wasn’t because of Derek, was it? It couldn’t be. There’s no way that Stiles — Derek stifles a groan as the lesson starts. He shouldn’t be going to Lydia’s party.

*

It’s loud at the party, people everywhere and Derek — this so isn’t his scene. He’d been handed a red solo cup with some kind of mixture inside it as soon as he’d walked in and judging by the smell, he really doesn’t want to be drinking it. There’s a few people he knows and he says hi, indulges in small talk with Boyd and Erica as people bump into him. It’s not a comfortable atmosphere at all, and Derek finds himself leaning against a wall outside, watching drunk people jump into the Martin’s pool. He’s kind of hoping no one dies; he doesn’t want his first high school party in years to end with paramedics being called.

Dumping his drink into a potted plant, Derek stuffs his hands in his pockets and wishes he had a book. There’s three in the car, but there’s also a possibility that attempting to leave the party to get a book would end up in him being thrown in the pool. Derek’s just about to risk it when Stiles appears next to him, two beers in his hands.

“Hey.” Stiles leans against the wall next to Derek and holds out a beer to him. “You want?”

“Uh — I have to drive.”

“One beer,” Stiles says with a grin. “You don’t even have to drink it, just take it.”

Derek really needs to work on being able to say no to Stiles when he smiles at him like that. Taking the beer, he startles when Stiles’ shoulder brushes against his, enjoying the heat radiating from Stiles’ body.

“You don’t like parties, do you?” Stiles asks after taking a gulp of his beer.

“What makes you think that?”

“The standing here not talking to anyone tipped me off.”

“Talking to you, aren’t I?”

Stiles glances at Derek and laughs, his face lighting up. “That you are. So, Derek Hale, why’d you finally come to a party?”

“How do you know I haven’t been to any before tonight?”

“Because I’ve been to all the parties and have never seen you at them.”

Derek snorts, the condensation from the beer bottle making his hand wet. He switches the beer to his other hand, wiping his palm on his pants. “I sincerely doubt you’ve been looking out for me.”

“So sure about that are you?”

Derek doesn’t know what to say to that, he takes a sip of his beer and tries to ignore the way his cheeks heat up when Stiles doesn’t look away from him. They stand there quietly, watching the lacrosse team take part in a cannonball competition, Stiles waving off demands to join in.

“You can — I won’t mind if you want to go.”

“I’m kind of over jumping fully clothed into a pool,” Stiles says. “After the fifth time, it gets boring.”

“Still, if there’s someone you’d rather hang out with —”

“Why do you do that?” Stiles interrupts, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really think no one wants to be around you?”

“I don’t like being around people,” Derek says before he can think about it.

“Oh.” Stiles starts to back away. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to —”

“No, I didn’t —” Derek sighs and stares at his sneakers. “I didn’t mean you.”

“I can go if you want.”

“No.” Looking up, Derek licks his lips and tries to smile at Stiles. “Stay.”

*

Derek isn’t sure how they got from discussing what would happen if either of them beat Lydia for valedictorian to this; stumbling into one of the spare bedrooms in Lydia’s house with Stiles’ hands slipping underneath Derek’s shirt. His fingers press against Derek’s ribs as he kisses Derek, and it’s — Derek wants this, he does, but this isn’t —.

“Stop,” he says. “Stiles — stop.” Derek pushes at Stiles’ shoulders as he tumbles back onto the bed, needing some space. He shouldn’t be surprised when Stiles moves off him, but somehow he is, and Derek lies there looking up at the dark ceiling as Stiles lies next to him. Their breathing echoes in the room, the sounds of the party downstairs floating up the stairs and Derek has no idea how to start this conversation.

“This isn’t only a hook up for me,” Stiles says, breaking the silence. “Can I —” There’s a moment where Derek isn’t sure what Stiles is going to do, but then Stiles is threading his fingers through Derek’s, and it’s not what Derek expected at all. Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand and lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry if I pushed you.”

“You didn’t. I just needed to know, I —” Derek laughs softly and rolls on his side. “I’ve wanted this, wanted _you_ , for, uh, a while. I didn’t want this to be — I didn’t know if you wanted anything other than tonight.”

“Oh.” Stiles turns his head to look at Derek, and there’s a dirty smirk on his face as he meets Derek’s eyes. “So now you know...”

“Kiss me.” And that’s all Derek needs to say before Stiles is on top of him, their faces close, and Derek could count each eyelash Stiles has, but then Stiles is kissing him. Stiles tastes of beer and nachos and it should be gross, but it’s _Stiles_ , and the more they kiss, the more Derek is sure that he’s not going to get tired of this anytime soon. Pushing his hands up the back of Stiles’ shirt, Derek mumbles “off,” against Stiles mouth. “Take this off.”

Stiles sits up on Derek’s legs and strips his shirt off, raising an eyebrow as a silent challenge to Derek, and Derek’s not going to back away from that. His fingers fumble at the buttons on his shirt, and once he’s got the last one undone, Stiles’ hands are on him. Splaying his fingers out on Derek’s chest, Stiles sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as he explores, and Derek clenches his fists at the way that image shoots straight to his dick.

“What do you want?” Stiles asks. “You — I’ve thought a lot about what I want to do to you, _with_ you.”

“You have?”

Ducking his head, Stiles licks Derek’s nipple and, yeah, holy fuck, Derek is all for whatever Stiles wants to do. “Yeah,” Stiles says when he looks at Derek, grinning at him before placing an open mouthed kiss against Derek’s collarbone. “I have.”

Stiles shuffles back on Derek’s legs and rests a hand against Derek’s zipper. “Can I?”

Nodding, his jaw dropping, Derek watches Stiles’ perfect, _amazing_ , hands as they undo his pants. Biting his lip to stop a whine from spilling out, Derek can’t look away from the way Stiles tugs his pants down, the tips of his fingers brushing over the bulge in Derek’s boxers. “Please,” Derek says when it doesn’t look like Stiles will do anything. “Stiles, please.”

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles’ cheeks are flushed, his eyes wide as he moves Derek’s boxers out of the way, sucking his breath in when he sees Derek’s cock. “Fuck, Derek.” He spits on his hand and grips Derek’s cock, slowly moving his hand up and down the shaft, and Derek’s not sure he’ll be able to last much longer. It’s not even that Stiles is doing anything special, but it’s Stiles’ hand, and it’s making him sweat, his muscles tensing and he —

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek chokes out. “Gonna —” And then Stiles presses his fingertips against the vein on the underside of Derek’s dick and he’s coming, spilling over Stiles’ hand, drops of come hitting his own chest. Breathing heavily, Derek unclenches his hands and reaches for Stiles, not even caring that come is being smeared between them, that they’re getting come on whoever’s bedspread this is; he just _wants_.

Pushing Stiles back on the bed, Derek doesn’t waste time in getting Stiles’ pants undone, and he laughs when he sees Stiles’ Batman boxers. “Sexy,” he says, grinning up at Stiles.

“Shut up,” Stiles nudges him with a knee. “I’ve seen you reading comics.”

Pausing, Derek frowns, his hand resting on Stiles’ crotch. “You have?”

“You think I haven’t noticed you?” Stiles pushes himself up and the kiss he gives Derek is so delicate, so intimate, that Derek’s left speechless. “I always noticed you.”

Derek ducks his head, a smile on his face and he knows his whole face is bright red. “Lie back,” he says. Stiles obeys, stretching his arms over his head, and he hums a little when Derek pulls the Batman boxers down low enough to expose Stiles’ cock. Swallowing, Derek does what Stiles did, spitting on his hand, and he can’t hold back a groan when he finally gets his hand around Stiles’ cock, grinning when Stiles’ hips buck at the touch.

“Not gonna last, oh, long,” Stiles mutters, his hands gripping the headboard. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this.”

“Yeah?” Derek twists his wrist, swiping his thumb over the head of Stiles’ cock. “How many?”

“That day you got caught in the rain and your clothes were clinging, _fuck_ , to you?”

“That was last year. I can’t believe you —” Derek stops talking when Stiles starts squirming, his dick pulsing in Derek’s hand. “Close?”

“Y-yeah,” Stiles stutters out, and then he’s coming, noises spilling from his mouth and Derek loves every second of this. He can’t stop looking at the flush on Stiles’ chest; how it spans all the way down towards his crotch, his dick softening, and Derek might be a bit in love with how Stiles’ cock looks in his hand.

Derek shuffles up the bed and wipes his hand on the comforter. “We’re gonna do that again, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Curling closer to Derek, Stiles touches Derek’s cheek, tapping his fingertips along his face until he reaches Derek’s mouth. “We’re gonna do that a lot.”

Kissing Stiles’ fingers, Derek smiles and looks down between them, his cheeks heating up at the sight of their come covered skin, their undone pants. “We, uh, should we clean up?”

“In a moment.” Stiles leans forward and kisses Derek softly, his thumb stroking Derek’s cheekbone. “Okay,” Stiles breathes out. “We can clean up.”

Sliding off the bed, Derek hitches his pants up and looks around. “En suite?” he asks, pointing at a door.

“Yeah.” Stiles stumbles over the bottom of his pants as he walks towards the door.

The light in the bathroom is harsh, and from a glance in the mirror he can see how swollen his lips are, the hickey on the side of his neck blossoming; it matches the one Stiles has on shoulder. When Stiles catches Derek looking, he smirks and hands over a damp washcloth. They clean up quickly and make their way back to the bedroom, Stiles grabbing Derek’s hand as he reaches for the door and it’s — Derek didn’t think he’d be walking out of Lydia Martin’s birthday party holding Stiles’ hand.

“Do you — I have my sister’s car if you —”

“Oh.” Stiles nods, a slow smile on his face. “Yeah, yes. Allison drove us over, my jeep was out of gas, and she’s probably with Scott.” He frowns and raises his voice as they walk down the stairs and rejoin the party. “Do you want to go now?”

Derek shrugs, a sheepish look on his face. “Yeah? This isn’t really my scene.”

“Can we make out in the car?”

And Derek’s pretty sure that making out might end up in doing stuff Laura specifically said he shouldn’t do in the car, but he’s also sure he doesn’t care. “We can totally do that.”

Lydia stops them by the door, her gaze travelling up and down their bodies, and she smirks at them. “Enjoy your present, Stiles?”

“Lydia, go away,” Stiles groans, turning his face into Derek’s neck. “I owe you something wonderful, I know.”

“Just as long as you know that. See you around, Derek. Get him home safely.”

“Uh, okay?”

When they’re outside, Derek stops by the car, leaning against the door. “What did she mean?” he asks, slipping a finger in Stiles’ belt loop and pulling him forward.

“She, uh.” Stiles awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “She knows I’ve had a thing for you forever and that you never come to any of these parties so she kind of invited you so I could, um. Make a move.”

“You wanted me?”

“Didn’t we go through this already? I wanted you, I always wanted you, I still want you.” Stiles steps even closer, pressing his body against Derek’s and brushing their lips together. “Get it?”

“I get it.”

“And, hey,” Stiles says, kissing the corner of Derek’s mouth. “Now you can draw other bits of me.”

Goddamn.


End file.
